


An Excess of Pause

by compos_dementis



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 07:32:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compos_dementis/pseuds/compos_dementis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victor has always wanted to kiss him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Excess of Pause

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AppliedMethodology](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppliedMethodology/gifts).



> I've always thought that Jim Sturgess would make an excellent Victor, and after realizing that they are both in "The Other Boleyn Girl" together, I begged my friends to find me a picture of Jim and Benedict in the same scene. My friend managed to, which then prompted my other friend to comment that "it looks like Victor and Sherlock awkward at a costume party." And this was born. Thank you to Lina and Laura for always being ridiculous.

"I don't see the point in going to this..." Sherlock's voice trailed off unhappily as Victor fussily fixed his outfit. Victor didn't have a problem in picking their outfits - after all, he /was/ a theater enthusiast, and part of that adoration happened to be for costuming - but something felt very wrong about sloppy, scruffy Victor Trevor helping prim and proper Sherlock Holmes tidy up his wardrobe.

"Costume party," Victor finished for him, adjusting the hat atop his friend's head. They were of equal height, each standing at almost exactly six feet, but Sherlock always felt taller than him, somehow. It was likely the attitude; Victor had never been as straightforward and blunt as Sherlock was.

"But /why/?" Mouth pulled down into half a pout, Sherlock reached up and took off the hat again, stubbornly. 

Victor sighed as he took it back up, once again resting it atop Sherlock's head. "It's a... social custom. We socialize. We... you know. Mingle."

"Victor, I'm hardly a social person. And you aren't exactly a social butterfly either."

"Well, maybe I'm looking on changing that." In truth, Victor didn't really want to go either. The only reason he'd agreed was because he had a friend to take now, someone he could effectively coerce into wearing ridiculous clothing and... and it would be /sort of/ like a date. Sort of, only not really, with Sherlock stiff and awkward and Victor feeling more stiff and awkward. His fingers, he realized, lingered on the cuff of Sherlock's shirt.

Victor heard himself audibly swallow, and though Sherlock's expression didn't so much as flicker, he could see the way his eyes met his own, and suddenly the air between them felt very thick. Victor's heart jumped and fluttered somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. His pulse leapt and he could swear in that moment that he had been suddenly struck with fever, the way heat pooled in his cheeks and a heavy, hard knot formed in his throat. It seemed to block his windpipe and he found it difficult to breathe. 

He wanted to kiss him. He'd wanted to kiss him since the day they'd met, to be honest, but now he felt the temptation more than ever. It was powerful and overwhelming, and he could feel Sherlock's smooth skin beneath the rough cloth of the costume, wanted to slide his hand further beneath it, to caress his collarbones and chest, his stomach and thighs, or to simply pull him in, simple and sweet, and press the chastest of kisses to that full mouth.

They were staring at each other as though in a standoff, and Victor found himself resisting the urge to lean forward.

"Do I /really/ have to wear this shirt?" Sherlock was the one to break the silence, and Victor felt a warm smile come over him as he fastened a button on Sherlock's coat.

"It's a 16th century setting. So yes. Think Henry VIII."

Sherlock's eyebrows knit. "...Who?"

The utter ridiculousness of the situation, of the question, made a somewhat hysterical laugh bubble up out of his throat. Sherlock looked startled for a moment, but he calmed himself, chuckling enough to shake his shoulders, to make Sherlock's mouth twitch slightly in response. 

"I love you, you git," Victor said, and it was only after the words were out there that he realized he'd said it at all. 

His heart stopped and his breathing caught again, this time out of a blinding fear of rejection. He hadn't meant to say it; it had completely slipped out, and Sherlock was staring at him again, and then, abruptly, Sherlock smiled that awkward smile that Victor loved and coveted.

"I love you too," he said, and it was so simple and so nakedly honest that Victor felt his face heat again with secondhand embarrassment. 

There was no pause this time, no hesitation. Instead, Sherlock simply motioned toward the door. "Now, if you don't mind, let's get this over with so I can get out of this blasted costume."

And Victor smiled.


End file.
